The Only Thing I Look Up To Is The Sky
by Sereni T
Summary: Sivir is a mercenary. She doesn't owe anything to Shurima, to Azir, or to a dead empire. She doesn't. But... "The only time I care about blood is when it's spilling out onto the ground." "He saved you when yours was doing just that." Oneshot.
**A/N: Once again, the next chapter of Chainlinks of Ice isn't coming out as easily as I'd like it to. Fortunately or unfortunately, you can have this instead.**

 **I think Sivir is an interesting character. She's not a good person, per se, but she isn't really a bad one either – re: her not going along with Noxus's invasion of Ionia despite being hired. Her relationship with all these Shurima (or SHURIMA) people is something to explore.**

 **Read, review, etc. Anyway, without further ado, I present to you wonderful readers:**

* * *

 **The Only Thing I Look Up To Is The Sky**

"Azir seeks you."

Sivir scoffs. "What else is new? I'm on a job right now, Nasus, stop bothering me."

The suns burns fierce in the sky overhead, its light turning the sand dunes into molten gold. The desert is never cool during the day, but today she swears she can almost see heat shimmers in the air.

She doesn't want to be here. She's been avoiding Shurima since Cassiopeia almost got her killed in the tomb. Since Renekton and Xerath escaped. Since Azir… saved her.

But she's back. Not because of some kind of attachment to her, ugh, home, but because this is where that fat merchant she and her band of mercenaries have to kill went.

"Though I understand your reluctance on this subject, Sivir, the fact remains that you are family," says Nasus.

Speaking of her men, the other mercenaries are staring at her and the jackal. One of them mutters something that sounds like, "Am I high right now?"

Sivir turns to them. "Go do something else for about five minutes," she says. "That's not too hard, is it?"

"But Sivir –" one man begins.

She shakes her head. "Go. I don't need you all listening in on me."

They still hesitate.

"I haven't check how sharp my blade is for a while," she growls. "I'm feeling like a test run before we get to that merchant. You want to help?"

And they scatter. Typical. They know she can take care of herself just fine, anyway.

"What were you saying, again?" she says to Nasus, her eyes narrowed.

He picks up on her irritation, but still doesn't just leave like she wants. "He is of your blood," he says.

"The only time I care about blood is when it's spilling out onto the ground."

"He saved you when yours was doing just that."

Sivir sighs, resting a hand on her forehead. "I know," she mutters. "But aren't I the reason why he's back at all? I don't owe him anything." She says it half to convince herself. She hopes it doesn't show.

Nasus puts a hand on her shoulder for a second. She shakes it off.

"He is lonely," he tells her.

"They why don't you go keep him company?" she retorts. "Aren't you supposed to be friends?"

He grimaces. "He… Azir wishes my aid in restoring Shurima's former glory. I cannot do this for him, no matter our friendship."

"Why not?"

"All things must have their end," Nasus says. "His empire had lasted for a long, long time."

"You told him that?" she asks.

"I am no fool," he says, with a snort.

"So what do you want me to do?"

He is quiet for a moment, before he says, "Though I cannot help him in his quest, I do not wish for my old friend to be alone. It is not a pleasant fate."

"So," Sivir says, raising her index finger, "you're trying to get me to go and help him because you don't want to do it yourself?"

He scowls. "A bit bluntly put, but I suppose I cannot argue with you. I realize it is selfish –"

She rolls her eyes, waving her hand dismissively. "No, I can respect that," she says. "It's how all my jobs start. Someone wants something done, but they don't want to do it themselves."

"Perhaps that is a fair comparison," Nasus says, sighing.

"Only question is – how much are you going to pay me? Better make it good. It took a lot to get me to even step foot in this desert again, let alone find that bird."

His expression darkens. "This is not a matter of gold!" he roars. "You are his last living descendant! Do not attempt to cheapen this with money!"

"Cheapen what, family bonds?" she snarls back. "Those don't feed you, or buy you weapons. Family, honestly. I grew up as an orphan, you know? Do you expect me to suddenly drop everything I've made to run off after him?"

The anger drains out of him all at once. "I do not," he says, and it sounds like the weight of centuries is dragging at his voice. "But, Sivir – you have not seen him once since his return. He does care for you."

She huffs a breath of air through gritted teeth. "I can't be what he wants either, you know," she says. "I'm not a stuck-up princess or anything. I'm a mercenary. I'm the Battle Mistress. That's the life I chose for myself, and I'm damned good at it."

"I know. And I am sorry for forcing you to bear this burden. But –" and here Nasus looks so, so sad, "– he has awakened to find a world that remembers neither him nor the empire he once ruled over, and the only things he has are his power, an empty city, and his dream of restoring Shurima's glory."

"An impossible dream," Sivir says, looking away.

"It might be," he agrees. "But even if it is not, I fear Azir may destroy himself in its pursuit. He is alone in a city full of ghosts."

"You're trying to make me feel guilty, aren't you?" she asks. "What makes you think that'll work?"

Nasus shrugs. "Nothing. But I know you are not truly so callous a person at heart."

"Then you obviously don't know me at all," she replies.

* * *

The job is finished. The fat merchant's corpse is being buried by a sandstorm, and the ruins of his convoy are baking in the sun. Sivir and the rest of her band collect their payment. It's good money, like she told Nasus. The kind of money that'd bring her back to this desert in the first place.

She should catch the first caravan out of here, find another job somewhere else. Not Noxus, of course, never Noxus anymore, not unless someone gives her a small fortune for it. She doesn't want to chance seeing Cassiopeia ever again if she can help it. That snake hired her, then betrayed her – and for what? The weapon the younger Du Couteau had wanted so much hadn't even been in that tomb.

All Sivir got from that day was two madmen after her head. Renekton and Xerath. They only hate her for her vague connections with Nasus and Azir, anyway. She's used to people after her for little reason, but those two have enough power to actually have a chance. But, she has her weapon and her band of mercenaries behind her, and while that doesn't guarantee her safety – nothing really does – it's enough.

… Azir doesn't have anything like that, does he? Doesn't have the hard comfort of being backed up by men and steel. What had Nasus said about him? His own power and a city of ghosts.

With a muttered curse, Sivir stops looking for transportation out of Shurima and starts packing for a hike through the desert.

* * *

Sivir know the way to the ancient city. No one's going to take her that far out into the dunes, so she has to walk instead. By herself. Her men aren't following her out there without a damned good reason, and besides, she doesn't want them to anyway.

The walk doesn't sit well with her. She's well out of sight of civilization by the end of the first day. Growing up in the desert, one of the first things she learned to not do was to go out alone like this, far away from the roads, into uncharted territory. It's just a horrible idea unless you want to die, and even if you do want to die, dehydration isn't a nice way to go. Not to mention the strange creatures hiding in the sand, that'll kill and eat you if you let your attention wander for too long.

She's doing this, though. Her feet know the way, and so does her heart. She'd scoff at the sappiness of that thought, but it's true. These steps are imprinted on what she might call her soul, if she were the poetic type.

Still, it's not easy. The blistering heat turns into near Freljord – level cold at night, and she probably has about five pounds of sand weighing down her clothes despite her effort to keep clean.

Why is she doing this again?

The trip takes two and a half days in total. She doesn't see the city until she's practically inside it – it's kind of like a mirage, she thinks, but in reverse. Can't see it from a distance, but it comes out of nowhere up close. And it's real.

The city itself is nice enough, she supposes, but what's really impressive is that Azir somehow rebuilt the thing by himself. That kind of power is really ridiculous.

Speak of the devil – Azir is waiting for her. Of course he is.

"Daughter," he greets her.

Sivir scowls. "Don't call me that. I'm barely related to you."

"But you are the last daughter of Shurima, and you are of my lineage," he says.

"Yeah, you've said that," she says, rolling her eyes. "Anyway. Nasus told me you were looking for me."

He tilts his head to the side. It looks strange on him.

"Walk with me," he says quietly. Quietly for him, anyway, considering how loud he usually is.

Azir sets off through the empty streets, his staff tapping on the roads. She insults him under her breath, but she follows him.

"Nasus does not completely understand what I desire," he says. "If I truly wished to seek you out, it would be trivial. I can sense our shared blood from across the desert."

Sivir raises an eyebrow. "That sounds handy, if a little creepy." Thought it is annoying to know he could find her any time he wants.

"Yes, but that is not what I want. I wish for you to come find me of your own will."

"Why?" she asks. "Don't want to spend the effort?"

"Hardly." Azir stops walking and turns to face her. "Sivir, you are my last living heir. This –" he gestures to the city and the desert, "– is your destiny, your birthright. But it means nothing if you do not accept it yourself, if you continue to insist on being a sellsword."

"I'm not some kind of princess," she says, frowning. "I'm a mercenary. It's not what I do, it's who I am."

"And that is why I am displeased at the reason for your presence. You are not hear because you wish to lend your aid in Shurima's restoration. You are here because Nasus pointed you in my direction."

More like guilted her into it. She still isn't sure why that worked.

"So, you want me to leave?" Sivir asks.

"Not at all," says Azir. "Regardless of the circumstances, it is good to see you, Sivir. Even if I would rather you be here because you have decided to claim your birthright."

"Not happening," she says. "Why are you so obsessed with restoring your empire, anyway?"

He might look disappointed at her. It's hard to tell, since he's basically a bird shaped like a human. "Do you truly not understand?" he says. "Once, the entire world knew of its glory. Now… I shall not rest until Shurima once again stretches to the horizon."

Why? It's been such a long time. Azir could be something other than an emperor, couldn't he? With the kind of power he has – why does he keep giving his loyalty to a dead empire?

"You're right, I don't think I understand," Sivir says. "What do you owe to a bunch of dead people?"

He growls. It's not a human sound, and the ever-present sand around them shifts. "That is exactly what I owe to them!" he shouts. "They are dead! They were my people! I relied on them and they on me in turn, entrusting their safety to me, and I failed! I will make Xerath pay and I will rebuild my empire, because I was their emperor, and I am their emperor still."

She thinks she might get it now. He was a leader, and his people trusted him enough to follow him. But then Xerath, someone he should've been able to trust, betrayed him, and he couldn't save them.

… what if her men, her band of mercenaries that trusted in her strength, had all died in that tomb? Because Cassiopeia, their employer, had betrayed them, and she couldn't do anything? Would she be able to live with herself?

She knows herself well enough to know what she would do. First, she'd gather enough strength to hunt down the snake and cut her to pieces. Then – then she might move on, but she wouldn't ever forget. If she got a chance to make it better, even if only a little bit, she'd take it.

Because her men trusted her, and if it were her fault they died, they'd at least deserve that.

It's not honor. She's never had that. Not exactly loyalty, either. It's something she doesn't have a word for.

"Maybe I do get it," Sivir mutters. Then she snorts. "I guess we're not as different as I thought."

"Could you not already see that?" Azir says.

She shrugs. "Not really. I guess it's just easier to see the differences."

"Quite easy, when there are plenty to see."

She blinks in confusion. Did he just make a joke?

"Anyway," she says, "I'm still not a princess or anything, and I'll never be."

"You are, whether you accept it or not," he says. It's just a statement, though. It doesn't sound like he's expecting her to suddenly put away her blade and start wearing pretty dresses.

"But that doesn't mean I'm going to just leave you here by yourself," Sivir continues. "You'll need to spread the word that you're back soon, and probably deal with idiots that try to come and kill you or something like that. I'm no princess, yeah, but… I think I might want to help."

She gets the impression of a smile from him, though his appearance doesn't change. "For what price?" he asks, amusement coloring his voice.

She smiles, just a little. "I can't speak for my men," she says, "but as for me – I think you've already paid enough."


End file.
